Childish Games
by requiemesque
Summary: "You act like I just took your crayon and wouldn't give it back." "You did take my crayon. Broke it, too." Axel x OC, One Shot . Written as a Christmas present for a great friend.


A shorter introduction than normal. It seems that I accidentally replaced the document on this story, and so I had to reupload it, and my introduction was misplaced. ^_^ Either way, this story was created for a friend as a Christmas present and very belated birthday present. Seeing as I've never really placed _Kingdom Hearts_, I can only hope that this is the best possibly written with my limited knowledge. And, on the topic of the source of this story, I do not own the _Kingdom Hearts _series, nor any of it's characters-in this case, Axel, Roxas, Marluxia, and Namine. To be quite honest, I don't own the original character either, as she's based off of my friend, and no one can own a person, silly little truffles. Some plot events were taken from the series, and I do not own these either. For those of you who have played the series, you know what you know, and you know then what I do not own.

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><p>The song is "Alexithymia" by Anberlin. This, neither, do I own.<p>

Lyrics are italicized and centered. My apologies for any errors in formatting or literature. I sincerely hope you enjoy!

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><p><em>Don't try to wake me up<br>Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow_

_Don't believe anything you say  
>Anymore, in the morn, in the morning<em>

Sunlight streamed into the dark room, splayed out across a few scorch marks and swaths of tattered black fabric—more specifically, several black cloaks—scattered across the floor. It crept slowly, warm tendrils reaching through the darkness to caress the body lying prone in the bed. Tousled red hair was splayed out across the black silken pillow—through which was burned a single hole, as if a cigarette had been snuffed out there—glowing a fiery copper in the sun's warm light. With a groan, the young man pushed himself up from the mattress, grumbling under his breath over the bothers of light. Two inverted teardrops, a deep violet, were tattooed under his eyes, both of which had remained shut until this point.

He sat back with a yawn, raking a hand carelessly through his haphazard mop of hair. Slowly dropping his hand down, he opened one eye halfway to observe his palm as he held it in front of his face. Thin scars laced across the lightly tanned flesh, some wider than others, and redder too—there were many more of those. Laughing bitterly, he slid himself out of bed and arched his arms over his head, the bare muscles of his chest flexing as he stretched. Similar scars as to those on his hand arced across the entire plane of his chest and back.

"What a boring, boring day," he remarked dully as he stared himself down in the bathroom mirror, soon bent over the marble sink.

Dark, ash-like half-moons curved about the undersides of his jade green eyes, pulled down and stretched taught by two fingers as he inspected them. He let them go with a scoff, at last, and splashed water over his face. Flicking his hands, he began to carefully style his hair, his movements slow and leisurely, as of someone who had nothing else better to do. Under his breath, he murmured a few incomprehensible words, shaking his head to the thoughts that followed, and sighed.

"Bad turned to worst and the worst turned into hell."

_Bricks to this old house are breaking  
>Steel would have weathered but now forlorning<br>It's alarming how loud the silence screams  
>No warn, no warn, no warning<em>

White walls of cold, smooth marble passed him by, contrasting starkly with his full-bodied black cloak. The chains looped about his collarbone echoed down the halls as they bounced and swung against his chest. His boots clipped neatly along the slick, almost reflective, floors of the barren stretch before him. Black, leather gloves stretched and relaxed against his scarred hands as he flexed the tender muscles, clenching and extending his fingers alternately at his side. Each movement was awkward and slow, as if he were merely trying to fill the silence and the stillness with any noise, any motion.

_Addictions fill the table where the family used to sit  
>And conversate<br>Conversate to the sounds  
>To the sounds of a record player<br>With its jumping needle and the lights that grow dim over time_

Hollow footfalls trailed behind him, following him to a point where the corridor widened into an antechamber with a high, over-arching ceiling. The room was circular, and just as empty as the hallway he had just left behind. No pictures were hung on the smooth walls, and even the statues placed neatly at thirty-degree angles about the room were smooth and faceless. He observed all these things in silent apathy, exhaling shortly and wagging his head from side-to-side in disapproval.

"Tsk tsk…No one even cares that I'm still here," he said aloud, though to no one in particular, and for no real purpose. "How sad."

Advancing to the center of the room, he brushed his fingers against a long, clean stone table, pulling his hand away without a speck of dust upon the obsidian surface of his gloves. He pondered little over the absence of his comrades, if they could even be called so, and soon cast it from his mind. Raking a hand through his spiked, crimson hair, he shook his head. Locking his hands behind his neck, he shut his eyes and submitted to the glittering, blackish-purple tendrils which wrapped about him, leaving his last words hanging in the silence.

"Guess I've got the day off, then."

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

_"And thank whatever God there may be for that."_

The area he had deposited himself in was secluded, an oasis in an exotic forest. Lush, green grass carpeted the full circular area, and tall, tropical trees bordered it. Small bushes formed a low hedge about the underbrush at the base of each tree, sparsely interlaced with tall grasses and dotted with colorful flowers. Towards the northern edge was a small, clear pool, its deep waters the loveliest azure blue and peacock purple. Its source seemed to be a swift, shallow river gushing over an outcropping of boulders just beyond one edge of the pool. Scattered around the shore were several waterweeds, wedged between smooth boulders, most with flat tops, as if they had been carved and carefully crafted as furniture in this hidden clearing.

Sinking down upon one of the stones, he stretched out languidly and stared into the pool. Deep green and blue plants waved under the water, swaying gently in the current. There was more noise here, provided by the bubbling sound of water splashing against rock, but still, the same quietness had followed him hear, clinging to him like feathered wisps of smoke after fire. Holding his hand to his eyes as he leaned back against another stone, he looked up to the brilliant sky, warm sunlight streaming down over him.

"What a day to be alive, huh? If you can even call my existence "living.""

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

At length, he decided to dip himself in the pool, stripping his cloak back so that, again, he was merely in a pair of dark pants, this time with boots and gloves accompaniment. He unlaced his boots and kicked them aside carelessly. Wading into the water until it reached just above his knees before bothering to peel off his gloves, he tugged at the bothersome leather, flinging the first expertly back to the rock. As he laid his hand, then, upon the other glove, a cross between a yelp and a screech assaulted his ears, and he lifted his gaze up in mild shock.

Some shadowy creature—a Heartless of some sorts—with gangly limbs and wide yellow eyes darted over the falls, chased by the resounding firing of bullets. A single shot hit its target, but just barely so, swishing through the creature's left shoulder. Smoke wafted up in dark tendrils, reforming over the "wound" as it whirled about, shifting restlessly from side to side. It chattered and squealed quietly, backing up, then advancing, as if it could not decide whether to attack or to run.

He stared at it for all of a moment, and it stared back, before holding his hands to his sides with a bored, inane grin. A tremble raced throughout the area, supplemented with a deep rumbling, as of an earthquake. With a hiss, a twist, and a whirl of fire, twisted about with the same dark vines that had carried him here, a matching pair of weapons appeared in his hands, crossbars gripped tightly. They were similar in appearance to Chinese wind-and-fire wheels, being wheel-like in shape and dotted with eight spikes along the outer rims. Each weapon was circular and red, with silver spikes and circles around the edges, and two black handles shaped like crosses in the middle.

Without further hesitation, he flung his hand out towards the creature, releasing a single weapon from his grasp. The tips were alight with fire as it spun forcefully towards the Heartless, which merely stood still, as if too frightened to move away from certain death. Just as the spines along the rims of his weapon tore through the creature's torso, mercilessly dispersing the shadows, movement at the edge of his vision caught his eyes. He turned, slightly, though still managing to catch his weapon with a twirl about his fingers, and regarded the new arrival curiously.

_Are you where you thought you'd be  
>So beautiful and only twenty-three<br>Opposition rests in the hearts  
>With no, with no, with no opportunity<em>

She was a rather pretty girl, about his age, though maybe a little younger, with short blonde hair and eyes as deep an emerald shade as his own. Dressed in a royal blue and gold outfit composing of a blazer-like top with detached sleeves, a skirt which brushed the middle of her thighs, a beret, and black thigh-highs, she cut a cute figure; more like someone dressing up for a play rather than for monster hunting. To this, he raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, watching as she skidded to a stop, digging the heels of her knee-high boots into the dirt. In her hands, she held two gleaming silver pistols.

Her pearl pink lips pursed together in a pout as she appeared to notice that the Heartless was gone. Without seeming to notice him, she put one hand on her hip and looked about, searching for her now missing prey. He stifled a laugh as she stomped her foot and growled.

"Gone? But…it was just _here_!"

"Yes, it _was_, and I wonder how it didn't manage to beat you; you're so inattentive," he drawled, still spinning his weapon about its crossbar.

She turned to face him, not shocked or frightened, but with the same blank curiosity with which he had gazed upon her as she entered. Lifting one hand, she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers tapping quietly against the barrel of her gun. He opened his mouth to make a crack at her rude staring, only to be cut off by her bell-like laugh.

"And who are _you_?" she asked him with a grin, almost mockingly, "Some sort of circus reject?"

"I suppose so," he returned nonchalantly, thinking ever so fondly of his "comrades" in the Organization, "but at least _I_ have an excuse for looking ridiculous."

She looked shock at having her insult slung back at her so quickly, staring at him dumbfounded. Raising his eyebrow at her, he cocked his head to the side. His lips twitched as she smiled again, his eyes tracing the crinkle at her eyes as she began to laugh. Her petite frame shook with amusement as she tried to stifle her giggles, placing her guns in holsters wrapped about her thighs.

"You're funny…," she commented softly, her laughter subsiding at last.

With a last twinkle in her eye, she turned away from him, and sashayed her way out of the clearing. He stared after her, unconsciously licking his lips, and shook his head. That girl, whoever she was, was quite something. In the moment of silence that rang as he thought of her, a deep, resounding throb pulsated through his body. Slowly, he looked to his left pectoral, and put a hand there. There was nothing, but, he continued to stare. Had his heart—the one that was not supposed to exist—had it just beaten?

_It's not that we don't talk_

She was nearly out of sight when he decided to pursue her. Leaving his clothes on the rock and neglecting to remove his remaining glove, he trudged out of the water, soaked from the knees down. The movement was clumsy for the added weight his clothes were now laden down with, but graceful for the ease with which he pulled it off. Stopping only to replace his boots, he jogged after her, quickly over taking her leisurely walk. With a wry, charming grin, he placed himself in front of her, his arms crossed behind his head.

"Hey hey hey now," he teased, "no need to walk off like a disappointed child…You act like I just stole your crayon and wouldn't give it back."

"Shouldn't you be off practicing some carnival trick?" she teased back, "And you did steal my crayon. Broke it too."

"Well!" he laughed, "I was _going_ to apologize, but with that carnival trick crack, and you being such a little smartass, I don't think I will."

"Better to be a smartass than a dumbass~" she shot right back, winking.

_It's just no one really listens and honesty fades_

"Oh-ho! Quite the little mouth you have. So, my sassy little acquaintance, what shall I call you? I presume you have a name?"

That laugh, again! Lilting and mirthful, trilling from betwixt those soft, pink, supple lips as she smiled. Her eyes shut, and there was that crinkle again, right at the corner of her eyes. She put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, which he found a pity, having rather liked the curve of her mouth when she smiled.

"Yes, I have one, Sir Clown," she answered, beginning to move around him

"Are you going to tell it to me?" he asked, intercepting her and earning a coy, frustrated pout.

"It's Kira. Now, going to be a gentleman and tell me your name before moving out of my way, Sir Clown?"

"The name's Axel," he stated proudly, finally moving out of her way. "Got it memorized?"

"Yeah yeah~" she chirped, sliding past him and walking away.

This time, he didn't follow, but merely watched, tracing the swing of her hips with his eyes. He laughed quietly, and put one hand in his pocket, raking the other through his hair. With a wistful sigh, he murmured quietly about fading entertainment, and traipsed back to retrieve the rest of his clothes. Bored with his surroundings, he soon left, never having finished his intended swimming trip.

_Like a politician lost in the course  
>All smiles and no one remembers our names<em>

With his hands in his pockets and his hood slipped back between his shoulder blades, he strode leisurely along the thin cobblestone roads of Twilight Town. It had been a week or so since Axel had last seen her, and she'd tugged at the back of his mind, as if she was a piece of information he'd forgotten and desperately needed to remember. What bothered him the most was that pang in his chest he had felt when she'd first walked away from him. That fleeting, pulsating beat in his heart was even more enticing than the flickering emotions he had felt when he'd mentored Roxas.

_Not to mention harder to forget_, he thought, turning a corner.

A faint smirk touched his lips, then, as a very promising scene was brought into his view. Just beyond the corner of the alley he'd turned from was the town square. There, in the middle of the creamy slate and beige patterned stone working, was his target. The blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy was dressed in a pair of black pants with white accents, a black shirt, and a white half-jacket. From this vantage point, Axel couldn't see much else, but he knew Roxas well enough to know that was him. Next to him, even more surprisingly, was Kira, dressed only slightly more casually than he had last seen her. Today, she wore a pair of loose jeans that flared slightly around the heels, tennis shoes like Roxas, and a blue blazer similar to what she wore in the forest where they'd met. The two seemed to be having a good time, sitting on the fountain and eating sea salt ice cream. He approached them with a slow and easy gait, a sly grin on his face.

"Roxas~. And Kira, too. I didn't expect to see you here."

From this close, he could see more of the details upon Roxas' clothes, and that his black shirt was, in truth, a black, high-collared jacket with a zipper resembling the Nobody symbol. Over this, he wore another jacket, this one unzipped and white, with several black block designs and a grey hem on the end of each sleeve. This jacket's collar was red, pleated and folded back. His pants seemed to actually be two different styles of fabric; the lighter, beige fabric was attached to the main, dark fabric by buttons around the hems. He accessorized with a checkerboard wristband and several black rings. The expression on Roxas' face, confused and curious, disappointed him, and his gaze slide to Kira, only to find that hers wasn't much better.

Up close, her clothing was a bit more decorative than he'd seen at first glance. Her shoes were sleek black boots sliding up her calves, hidden beneath the flare of her dark, denim jeans; the black leather shone under the light of the sun. Her blue blazer was decorated with vibrant golden threads, curling and twisting about in the shape of vines and flowers. Over her left breast was the symbol, curiously, for the Kingdom Hearts. Under her blazer was a plain white dress shirt. The expression on her face was, though less curious than Roxas', no less confused than his.

"Neither of you remember me?" Axel asked at last, feigning pain, "I'm hurt!"

"No," she replied with a grin, "I remember _you_. Just not your name."

"My name?" he returned, incredulous. "I thought you had it memorized. How sad."

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

As Kira spoke to the strange man, Roxas remained silent, staring at him. He had bright red hair, styled backwards in slick spikes; it looked soft, despite the amount of hair gel it had probably taken to get it to retain that shape. His eyes were a swirling chemical green, slightly familiar, but most likely because they reminded him of Kira's. There was something foreboding, a persistent nagging at the back of his mind, about his cloak. It was sleek, shiny leather, with gunmetal zippers on its various pockets. The sleeves clung to the man's thin, muscle-corded arms, and chains stretched across his lean chest from the shoulders of the cloak. Down his back hung a loose hood.

"Axel! A-X-E-L. Got it memorized this time?" the man drawled, presumably to Kira.

Their faces were very close, the young man's nose almost brushing hers. A certain light he knew all too well illuminated his friend's eyes from behind, and he saw it reflected in the man's—in Axel's. Shivering, as if suddenly cold, Roxas looked worriedly at Kira, and made as if to reach for her. She pulled away.

_With downcast eyes_  
><em>There's more to living than being alive<em>

Standing to her feet with the grace of a ballerina, Kira stared down the brazen character before her, his flaring scarlet hair dancing enticingly in the light breeze. He watched her calmly with that irate smile upon his face. Roxas' hand reached for her, she saw, but she ignored it, leaving her ice cream to melt on the stone and her friend to stand alone. When she stood, she reached Axel's shoulder, and their noses touched; he was still bent down towards her.

"Whatever you say, Teardrop," she remarked, touching the tattoos on his cheek with a neatly manicured nail.

"Back to the childish nicknames, are we?" he inquired as he grabbed her wrist tightly, an uncomfortable heat racing through her veins from the touch.

An inaudible gasp slipped past her lips at the touch. She struggled to think of a quick comeback, only to find that she was incapable of coming up with one. He seemed satisfied with her reaction, and, like her, parted his lips to presumably fire back another quick, smart comment, only to be cut off by a sharp sound from Roxas. As Kira looked at him, stunned, she found him standing to the side with a frown, keyblade in hand and ice cream discarded.

"Let her go," he said quietly.

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

The older red head did so, though not before pulling her an inch or two closer, holding on for a moment more simply to show that he was not obeying the younger blonde. Still grinning, Axel inspected the keyblade in Roxas' hands, chortling.

"Roxas, alright, fight fight fight," he murmured, summoning his own weapons into his hands. "You _were_ the reason I was here, after all. And look, I've been given these icky orders to destroy you…if you won't come back with me."

"Come back with you where?" the blonde returned warily, taking Kira's hand and pulling her back to his side.

She stumbled a little, the look on her face clearly stating what Axel already knew. She had all but forgotten Roxas in the last few moments. This made him laugh again, and smile faintly to himself. That warm feeling was back in his chest again. He liked being around these two.

"Back to the Organization of course. Man oh man, you seriously lost everything in that little noggin of yours didn't you kid? So, are you coming or do we have to get messy?"

"Neither."

_With downcast eyes_

Neither. Neither option was acceptable to Kira, nor, apparently had Axel or Roxas been prepared for her to speak. Stubbornly, she placed herself between the two, grabbing Roxas' hand tightly and frowning. It wasn't a frown specifically meant for either one or the other of them, but merely a frown of determination, her lips set into a firm line. Roxas was the first to speak, asking her what she thought she was doing.

"You're not going back," she said to him, "and things aren't getting messy," she continued, looking sternly to Axel. "We're leaving."

Her chest seemed to be clenching, as if she couldn't breathe, and she shut her eyes tightly.

_There's more to living than being alive_

Watching Kira walk away from him for the third time since he'd met her, Axel couldn't help but feel a sense of pain in his chest again. Confounded with her behavior, he banished his weapons and shook his head. Rubbing at his neck with his left hand, his other straying to his left pectoral, he sighed. He couldn't ever seem to figure that girl out, even when she was right in front of his eyes. As he turned to go back the way he'd come, a nonchalant lie to cover these previous events for his superiors already forming, a powerful beat echoed in his eardrums. Slight pain coursed through him, and he closed his eyes, merely reveling in the sweet feeling of his own pulse for the brief moment it was there. Like a butterfly's wing beat, it soon disappeared, and he found himself just barely able to stumble on his way, as if he was wandering out of a dream. A dream which ended far too abruptly.

_Don't try to wake me up  
>Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow<em>

Three weeks passed since that day, leaving him in a daze. As he woke up this day, it was the first in a long while where he felt even a fraction of his old self. Granted, he had been as sarcastic and distant as before, but compared to how he'd felt since meeting Kira, nothing held a candle. He was, again, an empty shell.

His head hung limp as he pushed himself up from the ground, rolling to the side. Heaving with a sigh, his ribcage seemed to constrict and implode upon his lungs as he sat up. Fresh bruises dotted the scarred flesh of his arms and torso, twisting and stretching as he sat himself up. For a moment, he merely sat, rubbing his arms with a bit of added heat as the cold air of the morning chilled his bones. With a bitter laugh, he avoided his own gaze in the mirror of the pool he had slept by, and stood to his feet in a single, lithe movement. Stretching and arching his spine, he cracked his back leisurely, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Ah," he sighed, glancing upwards at the gunmetal sky as a black vortex began at his feet, tendrils of the sinister cloud engulfing him, "and what a day to die. Cold, bleak, and miserable. Fun."

_Don't believe anything I say  
>Anymore, in the morn, in the morning<em>

Despite all its inhabitants being awake, the small house in Twilight Town was eerily quiet. The atmosphere about it was chill and clammy, a despondent softening to the tension inside. With each resounding, monotone click, the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, which stretched on like minutes and elongated into hours. Methodically, Kira stroked at her hair in the mirror, removing the tangles without so much as a grimace at the sharp tug. Each movement seemed robotic and numb. She broke her gaze with the mirror only when Roxas knocked and entered her room.

"You're still going?" he asked, his voice dull.

She responded with a nod. "I am."

"Why? I have a seriously bad feeling about him, Kira! You've seen the others, and what they can do; he's just like them," the boy protested, his face contorted with emotion.

"You don't know that, Roxas, and that's why I'm going. I have to find out for myself. You can't protect me forever; I can take care of myself."

He spent a few moments in silence, watching her as she set down her brush, and tied her hair back with a sleek black ribbon. Something uneasy settled in him as she pulled on her pair of black boots over her black pants, zipping them up her slender calves. The only comfort he gathered was in her typical royal blue coat over her white shirt, and the golden threads gleaming like sunshine.

"Be…careful then," he finally whispered, his voice resigned.

"I will."

As if to prove her point, she tucked her guns into their holsters, patting them in with half a grin. She bent down to him and pecked his cheek, hugging him briefly before darting out of the room. Down the stairs she jogged, quietly slipping out of the house and down the streets of Twilight Town. He watched her from the window with a sigh, his palm pressed against the glass. He had forgotten to say what he meant to say; that she meant everything to him and he didn't want to lose her too.

"Maybe she wouldn't have gone if I had…"

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

With footsteps echoed across the floor of the empty room as the brooding figure paced. His hair was a shaggy, rose-petal pink, brushing against the shoulders of his black cloak. Thin, delicately arching brows drew close in frustration over his sapphire blue eyes as he stopped pacing, a quiet hissing now filling the air. Behind him formed a cocoon of dark bluish-black energy, dotted here and there with volatile purple sparks.

"You have some nerve showing your treasonous face around here," he muttered to the smug red-head, "some nerve indeed."

"Treasonous? I don't know what you could possibly be talking about."

Pale white lights streamed in through the windows, yet not a single shadow strayed from either still form. Beneath their feet was the symbol of a sun, ironic for the lack thereof in this place, splayed out with one each at the tip of opposing rays. Grinning inanely, Axel laughed and regarded the almost girlish man before him. The latter turned to face him, frowning, and questioned him quietly about his recent acts. For the first few moments since he had entered Castle Oblivion again, Axel remained alone with the pink-haired man, speaking of treason. Back and forth they had bantered, each exasperatingly calm. Their voices were low and nonchalant, despite the clear intention they each displayed in their eyes. Neither of them intended for the other to leave this room alive.

"I would say that _you_ are the traitor, Marluxia," Axel murmured at last, having recapped the former's latest plot.

"Since when were you suspicious of us?" he inquired, mildly taken aback.

"Do either one of us have the heart to believe anyone?"

"So you only eliminated Vexen to obtain proof of our plan," he continued, chuckling over Axel's comment.

"That," began the fire attribute, rubbing his neck with a shrug, "I didn't want to do. But it was your order." Summoning his weapons to his hands, he gave a slow, sadistic smile. "Remember the order: _You must eliminate the traitor_. I always follow orders, Marluxia."

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

The same ominous feeling which had seemed to bother Roxas when Axel had confronted them now clawed at Kira's chest as she darted along the streets. Confusion, as well, mixed in with the foreshadowed pain, as she struggled through the addled field of her mind. She had met this red-haired, stubborn, charming man only twice, and yet, in the peculiar way that the heart will work, she found herself defending him and playfully flirting with him as if she'd known him for years. This same strange working tugged at her heartstrings while her feet pounded down the cobblestone road.

"W-wait!" a quiet voice called to her from the side of the road, causing her to stumble and skid hastily to a stop.

Impatiently, she looked around, her eyes finally settling on the only person who seemed to be out and about at this time. She was a young girl, around the same age as Kira herself, with the same short blonde hair and blue eyes just like Roxas. Dressed in a thin, short white dress, and standing barefoot on the cold cobblestones, she shivered noticeably in the damp air. She had a sketchpad hugged tight to her chest.

"Are you Kira?" she asked quietly, stepping out of the shadows warily.

"I…am. Why?"

"Axel told me to find you. He said I'd be safe with you, a-and that you had Roxas with you."

Nodding slowly, Kira raised one hand and pointed back towards the house she shared with Roxas. It was small, and just as plain as any of the other houses in Twilight Town, with a small yard in front and in back. She remained, however, standing between the shy girl and the house, her eyes curious.

"Who are you? And why did he tell you to find us?" she inquired slowly.

"M-my name is Naminé. He…let me go," the girl admitted finally.

"Let you go?"

"Organization XIII—M-Marluxia—they—h-he, was keeping me captive so that I could rewrite Sora's memories for them. I didn't want that. But Axel…he let me go."

She knew it. There _was_ more to Axel than Roxas had seen. Something better and warmer under that blank, clown like attitude.

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

His face decorated with a grim, delighted smile, Axel caught his weapons as they returned to him. Spinning them around his fingers, he chuckled and leapt away from Marluxia, avoiding the deep, wine-colored petals flung his way and the danger which followed. He landed lightly on his feet and tossed one weapon again, a swirl of fire coating around it.

"I didn't think you'd take so long playing around, Marluxia," he taunted. "Afraid of getting your hair messed up?"

"Just waiting for something. And here she comes, like a good girl."

The door, behind him, slammed open, followed by a cry.

"Axel!"

"Kira," he whispered, inhaling her name sharply as he turned to face her.

Shock was clearly written across his face, his lips slightly parted as he blinked in curiosity. She looked like a vision, standing in the wide-open doorway, with a black ribbon pulling back her hair, and black boots laced up her calves. Her blue and gold cloak was hung loosely around her slender frame as she blinked and stared at the scene she found. A light, tender pink flush colored her cheeks, and he laughed quietly.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased, his shoulders relaxing as he leisurely spun one of his weapons.

"No, I don't suppose that's the problem," Marluxia commented, raising his scythe, "Perhaps she simply doesn't want to see her precious Axel struck down. So, are you a hero?" he asked, addressing the latter to Kira as he swung.

Turning too late, Axel caught the swing straight across his chest, falling back with a muffled curse. He groaned as he sat himself up, his hand pressed over his wound. Marluxia stood over him with a sickly sweet smile, scythe resting on his shoulder and poised for the next swing. Despite his taunt, Kira had made no discernible sound or movement, and Axel could not bring himself to look back to her. His green eyes remained locked with Marluxia's as the latter raised his scythe again.

"Your heart shall be judged!"

"And yours tenfold, Marluxia," he murmured, "I've heard this all before. Get it over with now."

A single shot, however, fired through the air, the sound resounding through the cavernous room. Startled, Marluxia's scythe clattered to the ground as he moved to put his hand over his own chest. Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping quietly through and staining the white floor red. The echoes of the falling bullet and scythe bounced across the walls as he stared blankly at his hand, confused. Pale blue and white light flickered around him like smoke as his body began to fade.

"This…," he whispered, "this is the heart of a hero…"

_With downcast eyes  
>There's more to living than being alive<em>

Frowning, Axel sat up, ignoring the pain, and looked at Kira as she made her way to his side. Her hand seemed to be shaking a little, though her eyes were no less fierce. With half a grin, he nodded in approval, holding his hand out to her as she reached him. She took his hand to help him to his feet as he stared down the fading Marluxia coldly.

"We are just Nobodies who have no one to be, yet we still "are." But now you can be nothing instead of just being Nobody. You're off the hook," he drawled, snapping his fingers.

A flare of fire went up around the pink-haired offender, much in the same way Axel had destroyed Vexen—even using the same lines. He coughed once, shook his head, and looked at Kira with a faint smile. She smiled back cautiously, reaching up to touch the wound; only to have his hand stop her. He pulled her close with that peculiar grin stretched across his face, and touched his nose to hers.

"And now, what to do with you?"

"Get me out of here?" she suggested quietly. "I didn't think things through, and you're hurt."

"As you wish," he said, summoning a shadowy portal to take them elsewhere as his weapons disappeared.

A light, warm breeze encountered them as they arrived, center of the same clearing in which they'd first met. It wrapped about her and tugged playfully at the ribbon with which she had tied back her hair. He reached behind her to undo it, laughing as he twirled it around his fingers. Despite his injury, he acted as if it had never happened; the only signs of what had gone wrong were the streaks of dark blood staining his cloak and her pristine shirt.

"So," he began, "are you going to play doctor now?"

"Oh, I don't know, you seem fine," she smiled, making as if to pull away.

"Ah," he pouted, holding her fast, "but I'm not. You see, I've been having chest pains lately."

"And is that any problem of mine?"

"Of course. You're the cause."

"Oh?"

Shyly, almost, she lifted her gaze to his. He stroked his gloved hand along her jaw, tilting her face up, and grinned. Whispering a quiet "yes," he led her hand to his heart, where it had begun a steady pulse.

"Cliché as it is, Kira," he purred, "you've woken my heart up. You made it beat. You're quite the amazing girl, you know."

"I knew you had a heart."

Leaning up on her tiptoes, she said no more, but placed a sweet kiss on his lips. They twisted into a grin, and he put one arm behind her. Pressing one hand to the small of her back, he lifted her up, and returned the kiss. It left her breathless and a little dizzy, which she laughed at. Snatching yet another moment of bliss from his lips, she brushed her fingers through his hair and ran them lightly down his chest.

"Have those chest pains stopped?" she inquired at last, playfully, to which he winked.

"Oh, I think they've only just begun.

* * *

><p>Third time's the charm! Hopefully nothing goes wrong with <em>this<em> version of the story, although no one can tell. I had to fully delete this one and restart it, so I lost both the reviews I had. T_T How sad, n'est-ce pas? Ah, mais, c'est la vie. Anyway, I hope you all like it, once more, and I'd love to see more reviews pop up again, flames and hate-mail notwithstanding. ^_^


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